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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23331520">heaven/hell.</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/luthorshaw/pseuds/luthorshaw'>luthorshaw</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Glee</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst and Fluff and Smut, F/F, Faberry, Sex, Smut</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 06:14:50</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>8,330</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23331520</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/luthorshaw/pseuds/luthorshaw</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>"The first time you sleep with a woman, you’re a freshman at Yale."</p><p>or </p><p>Santana isn't the first woman Quinn sleeps with.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Rachel Berry/Quinn Fabray</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>152</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>heaven/hell.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Disclaimer: I don't own anything related to the Glee Universe. No copyright infringement intended.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The first time you sleep with a woman, you’re a freshman at Yale. </p><p>Your entirely too friendly RA, Jared, invites you to a party kicking off the semester, but you don't know anyone on the floor just yet. So you do what any logical college student would do in your situation.</p><p>You get drunk.</p><p>Alcohol makes things easier. That’s what your parents taught you, after all.</p><p>You awkwardly insert yourself into a conversation with a few other students you recognize from some of your prerequisite courses. </p><p>As you rock up, a brunette with a nose ring and a sleeve full of tattoos says with an air of confidence, “It wouldn’t change the direction of the book, but I would have loved more time dedicated to Bella’s abandonment issues. It felt like she had this painfully horrible experience where the people she loved left without a goodbye. It was bullshit.”</p><p>You curl your brow in the girl’s direction and your eyes meet. As someone whose parents have abandoned them in a plethora of ways, you can relate to what she’s saying. </p><p>“Personally, I think the narrative could’ve dedicated more time to Bella’s issues surrounding Edward’s departure,” you respond, and the other members of the group look to you. </p><p>The attention they momentarily give you is daunting, but you push through it. This moment is vital, because these people may be your colleagues throughout your tenure at Yale.</p><p>The brunette eventually smirks, studying you with a tilt of her head. When she finds what she’s looking for, she knocks back the contents of her cup in one fell swoop.</p><p>“I’m all out,” the girl smirks coyly. She glances down at your own red solo cup. “Looks like you need a refill too, babe. Come with?”</p><p>Something about the whole exchange sets something alight in your belly, but you’re sure you’re just nervous. Meeting new people, jitters and all that. “Sure.”</p><p>April is a literature major in her senior year. A few drinks after that you discover the Virginia Woolf quote embedded on the brunette’s body when her shirt rides up. </p><p>
  <em> You cannot find peace by avoiding life. </em>
</p><p>Not that you were looking.</p><p>The two of you spend the majority of the night discussing Sylvia Plath, Margaret Atwood and Mary Shelley. It’s one of the most stimulating conversations you have ever had in your life; mostly because the rules are different here.</p><p>There’s no need to be on top of the social ladder. There are no parents to appease or disappoint if you step out of line. There is no Beth and no Shelby, even though you FaceTime them every week.</p><p>There are no tiny, talented divas to challenge you or make you question everything.</p><p>It’s the fresh start that you have always wanted, and now that you have it, you’re stripping your past away.</p><p>A few games of beer pong with some dudebros later, April grabs your hand and you gravitate toward the older girl’s dorm room. You don’t remember how you get to her building, but you do feel the sweat lining your hand from where April is holding it.</p><p>When you follow her inside, you realize April lives in a single room. Much unlike your dorm, there are no roommates to interrupt you, even if you wanted them to.</p><p>You actively ignore the reason you’re here. </p><p>You know yourself. If you think about it too much, you’ll run.</p><p>There are posters of punk bands you’re vaguely familiar with tacked to the walls, a large whiteboard with a colour coded schedule, a comfortable looking queen sized bed and an end table with a stack of papers with a dirty mug used as a paperweight.</p><p>“See something you like?” April asks, the double meaning not lost on you. When you remain reticent, the brunette opens the window on the far side of the room, grabs her bowl and lights up. “Want a hit?”</p><p>In the spirit of trying new things, you flatten the invisible wrinkles in your sundress and join April by the now gaping window. </p><p>You <em> have </em> smoked marijuana before, but usually it’s pre-rolled for you in blunt form, courtesy of Santana Lopez. </p><p>You’ve never personally sought pot out, nor have you smoked it in a setting without Santana and Brittany or the Skanks, so this is somewhat new territory for you.</p><p>April laughs when you inhale too much smoke and cough for a solid minute. Once your throat feels less irritated, you hoarsely mutter, “That is entirely too strong for me.” </p><p>“You don’t smoke often, do you, fresh meat?”</p><p>“Not like this, no,” you admit with an embarrassed smile. “I’m more of an alcohol girl.”</p><p>April nods in understanding and holds up the bowl. “Want me to show you?”</p><p>“Please.”</p><p>April lights up. “...while holding the carb, smoke and air flows from the bowl through the chamber and into your mouth…” </p><p>You don't hear much of what the other woman says, instead honing in on the way the glow from the lighter hits the brunette’s face. </p><p>In this particular light, exhaling smoke out the window, you imagine an entirely different brunette all together. The realization takes you aback, momentarily lifting you from your intoxicated stupor. </p><p>“You okay, blondie? You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” April jokes. “It’s Indica, which is supposed to relax you. If you’re freaked, just close your eyes and let it take over.”</p><p>You do as you’re told and try to remain as in the moment as possible. You close your eyes as instructed, and your thoughts immediately drift to a girl who is currently eighty miles away from New Haven. </p><p>You push past the hurt and you notice how your breathing slows.</p><p>Once you’re centered and feeling the effects of the drug, your eyelids flutter open. You eye the bowl that’s now placed on the windowsill, forgotten about. </p><p>April’s face is a lot closer to yours than you remember it being a minute ago; so close that you feel goosebumps form on your forearms.</p><p>“I could be reading this all wrong,” April begins, moving further into your personal space. “But I don’t think I am.”</p><p>Your insides are screaming at you to protest, you do. </p><p>But you’re not the head cheerleader anymore.</p><p>There is no image to upkeep.</p><p>You’ve gotten out, finally escaped the life you once thought you were doomed to.</p><p>You find yourself shaking your head no instead.</p><p>She places a hand on your hip and you instinctively shift toward the woman. You do your best to push Rachel Berry from your mind when your gaze locks onto April’s lips. The woman fists a handful of your shoulder length hair into her palm and tugs.</p><p>Right now you just want to forget that girl you were in Ohio and everything and everyone that came along with her.</p><p>When April slides your bottom lip in between hers, you know you won’t come back from this. </p><p>You can no longer deny that you feel more while kissing this girl than you ever did with Finn, Puck, Sam or even Todd, who you were peer pressured into kissing in the eighth grade. </p><p>April takes the lead, peeling your sundress off, leaving you in just your bra and panties. You feel way too exposed for comfort, so April helps you slide off her ripped jeans and tank top before guiding you onto her mattress.</p><p><em>Wow, you’re gorgeous,</em> April tells you while her thighs rest on either side of yours. As much as you enjoy how her slender fingers tease you, you can’t help but feel like this is wrong. </p><p>That this first should be happening with someone else instead.</p><p>You sigh, <em>Thank you,</em> around a moan anyway, because you need to <em> not </em> think about anything right now. </p><p>Although you are drunk, you don't feel badly about your body this time. There are no wine coolers present, and you have consented to what’s happening completely. </p><p>Unlike your last sexual experience, it seems as though April cares about what you want.</p><p>There was no one to talk you into bed tonight.</p><p>This may not feel explicitly right, but you have never been touched like this, so it can’t exactly be entirely wrong either. </p><p>If you’re honest, sex with April feels good<em> , </em> better than any experience you’ve had before this <em> . </em> </p><p><em>Come for me,</em> she tells you impatiently, when you feel on the precipice of whatever that throbbing in your center means.</p><p>And with a few more thrusts, you do come around her long, narrow fingers, the wrong name almost tumbling out of your mouth.</p><p>You sink into her mattress, breaths ragged and strands of hair caked to your face. She climbs off of you and laughs while you don’t know what to do with your hands.</p><p>You want to return the favour, because April is attractive and you’re still feeling the effects of your buzz, but you wouldn’t know where to start. </p><p>“I’m not ready to—”</p><p>“Don’t worry about it,” April sighs, a bit dejectedly. She shifts after her breaths even out and turns off the lamp on the end table. “You should get some sleep. It’s late.”</p><p>You don’t spoon, you hardly touch after. Though you feel thoroughly satisfied, you also feel extremely dirty.</p><p>You just had sex with a girl for the first time and she just rolled over like it wasn’t monumental.</p><p>But it was for you.</p><p>You stare at the ceiling for a while, your mind running a mile a minute until you’re sure April has succumbed to slumber.</p><p>You pick up your underwear and dress from the floor and haphazardly slip them back on, not caring if they’re on correctly. </p><p>You don't bother to check the state of your hair in the mirror, the desire to be in your own bed winning out. You slip out of the door around 2AM, and hope no one is awake to see your walk of shame.</p><p>No such luck.</p><p>There are partygoers still drinking out in the courtyard when you follow the lampposts back to your building. Whether these drunkards know where you’ve been or what you’ve done is irrelevant, because it feels like they do.</p><p>It feels like they’re watching you, waiting for you to break. </p><p>The pressure of it all comes to a head when you’re on the front steps of Baker Hall. You find a perfectly large bush to heave the contents of your stomach into. There’s no one to pull your hair back, and you feel entirely alone with the weight of what tonight means for you.</p><p>When you finish up, you make the trek up the stairs and pull your fob out of your bra. You head straight to the bathroom to brush your teeth, careful to not wake your roommate who is presumably asleep at this hour. </p><p>When you enter your bedroom, you don’t bother to change out of your clothes that stink of cigarettes and sweat. Your head hits the pillow and the tears fall freely from your face. You pull your comforter up to your chin to muffle the sound of the sobs that involuntarily come out of your mouth.</p><p>It’s about the most comfort you’re going to get, because you don’t have any friends here. You’ve cut off the handful of people who gave a damn about you in Lima too, so there’s no one to call either.</p><p>Once your eyes burn too much to keep them open, you vow to shove all of this to the back of your mind and never think about it again.</p>
<hr/><p>The second time you sleep with a woman, it’s between friends.</p><p>When you arrive at Mr. Schuester’s wedding, one of the first things you notice is how close Rachel and Finn are standing. They whisper to one another periodically, appearing to be up to something.</p><p>From what you observe on Rachel’s end, she’s into whatever escapades they have gotten themselves into for the night. Finn though, looks like a lovesick puppy, which doesn’t surprise you.</p><p>He’s still stuck in high school, it seems. But the Rachel standing before him isn’t the one who left him at the train station after graduation. The air about her is extremely different and you don’t know how to navigate this new Rachel Berry.</p><p>The sight of her still makes your breath catch in your throat though.</p><p>According to Santana, Finn and Rachel broke up months ago and the diva has been casually dating a new guy named Brody. </p><p>That’s a pompous name if you ever heard one.</p><p>As much as it hurts that the brunette is seeing someone, you’re glad Rachel isn’t exclusive with anyone.</p><p>The fact that you find relief in that perturbs you.</p><p>Seeing Finn and Rachel together is reminiscent of a time you’ve since tried to neglect. </p><p>
  <em> When you were singing that song, you were singing it to Finn and only Finn, right? </em>
</p><p>Of course she was. </p><p><em> She loves him, not you </em>, you’d told yourself back then, and it looks like the brunette’s affection for her high school sweetheart hasn’t changed at all.</p><p>It feels as though a golf ball has made its way into your throat and set up camp.</p><p>Considering your short lived relationship with your thirty-five year old Linguistics Professor has imploded, you gravitate towards Santana, who also happens to be single.</p><p>When Ms. Pillsbury turns out to be a runaway bride, you all head to the reception, not willing to miss out on the venetian hour and open bar.</p><p>For a majority of the evening, Santana is honed in on Brittany while you are entirely too focused on Rachel. You try your best to hide the object of your affection from Santana, under the guise that you hate Valentine’s Day.</p><p>The tactic works better than it should, if you’re honest.</p><p>You routinely peek out of the corner of your eye at Rachel, despite the decent time you’re having with Santana. It’s killing you that the two of you haven’t spoken to one another since you visited her in New York, and that wasn’t a proper visit. </p><p>It would’ve killed you if Rachel had gone through with that nude scene. Not because you think it was beneath her or that you would’ve judged her for it, but because the script was terrible.</p><p>Despite never being intimate with her, you know Rachel’s body is something to be marveled at, not just on display for the sake of nudity.</p><p>You desperately want to be in her orbit, but you have no idea what you'd say to her. You’d give anything to grab her attention, to feel her expressive eyes locked onto yours. </p><p>Before you can think of what to say, you find your feet have guided you to the brunette, right before she’s due to perform.</p><p>“Hey Rach,” you smile, placing a hand on the girl’s shoulder. </p><p>“Quinn!” Rachel squeals, pulling you into her arms. The diva’s hugs always surprise you. They’re always a crushing of limbs together, and it’s one of your favourite feelings in the world. </p><p>Your height difference allows her head to tuck into your neck and you resist the urge to sigh a contented breath into Rachel’s hair.</p><p>You pull away first, careful to not overindulge yourself in her. “Some wedding, huh?”</p><p>You almost kick yourself for the lame attempt at conversation, but Rachel flashes her wonderfully toothy smile at you and your head empties<em> . </em> “The glee club doesn’t seem to have a great track record with weddings.”</p><p>You laugh hollowly, thinking back to Rachel in a wedding dress. How beautiful she looked and the fact that you never got to tell her that. “I take full responsibility for how yours turned out.”</p><p>It’s been a while since you’ve thought about your accident. Your physical therapist gave you routine stretches to do every morning since you were discharged from outpatient therapy, and your workout regimen as of late is immaculate. Other than some back soreness at night, you’re practically as good as new.</p><p>Rachel grows serious at the mention of it.</p><p>“That was hardly your fault, Quinn,” she instructs. “You were right back then, about Finn and I being too young to tie the knot. I know exactly where I need to be now.”</p><p>She slips her hand in yours and her gaze shoots up to hazel. Rachel is giving you a look that you’re sure you’ve seen before, but not directed at you.</p><p>
  <em> Where she needs to be? Is she talking about New York? Broadway? Lima? </em>
</p><p>The thing you are sure of is the flutter in your chest from the way the brunette is looking at you. Jumbled words nearly tumble from your lips, but the wedding party’s applause cuts you off. </p><p>“Duty calls,” Rachel smiles, disengaging from you and pointing cutely towards the stage. “I’ll find you later?”</p><p>You nod dumbly, watching her in awe as she climbs onto the stage. It’s the most the two of you have spoken in months, and you can’t help but be disappointed that you didn’t get to have a longer conversation with the diva.</p><p>Neither of you have used your train passes since you and Santana’s intervention. You stopped emailing her quite as frequently as you had when she first arrived in New York, because...</p><p>Well. Things just got too difficult.</p><p>You make your way back to Santana who has an elbow placed on the bar and a drink in her other hand. She’s making small talk with the bartender, who isn’t at all your type but is definitely hers. </p><p>You smirk, because at least some things don’t change.</p><p>Before you reach Santana, your smile wanes, understanding now what Rachel meant before.</p><p>She’s where she’s supposed to be now with Finn, who is watching her on stage with a twinkle in his eye. </p><p>You realize you fooled yourself into thinking you could get over Rachel.</p><p>You fooled yourself into thinking she cares about you at all, because she doesn’t. Not in the way you need her to.</p><p>Santana asks you to dance when you’re three cocktails in and you immediately place your hands on either side of her waist.</p><p>You’re tired of the emotional seclusion you’ve doomed yourself to. You want the ability to trust Santana enough to confide in her, because she understands. </p><p>You know she misses Brittany; you know she’s been where you are now. </p><p>Confused, but not exactly as alone as you feel.</p><p>You were wayward friends at McKinley, but Santana seems to have matured considerably since then. Perhaps that means she can be someone different to you now.</p><p>Sure, you’ve made acquaintances in your classes, but you suspect your friendships with Connor, Will, and Sonya won’t last beyond the four years it takes to complete your degree.</p><p>On one hand, Santana is an out lesbian and comfortable enough with herself now to admit it. You, on the other hand, aren’t quite ready for her to throw you a coming out party.</p><p>The only person who understands the profound loneliness you experience on a daily basis is on stage, performing songs to someone who isn’t you.</p><p>
  <em> I’ve been so lonely </em>
</p><p>
  <em> All of my hopes so fading away </em>
</p><p>
  <em> And I've longed for love </em>
</p><p>“I've never slow danced with a girl before,” you whisper into Santana’s ear without thinking. “I like it.”</p><p>
  <em> Like everyone else does </em>
</p><p>
  <em> I know I'll keep searching after today </em>
</p><p>She isn’t singing to you.</p><p>She never was, and you have to cope with that somehow.</p><p>Santana regards you peculiarly before you pull her back into the embrace. The two of you sway to Rachel’s voice, much like you used to in glee club. </p><p>It’s comfortable, but the implication is all so new.</p><p>When the night is over and Rachel is nowhere to be found, you drag Santana upstairs to the hotel rooms.</p><p>You’re positive she understands what you’re asking her for when she guides you to her door and you both stumble inside.</p><p>It’s better than your first time, you’ll give the girl that. The sex is familiar in ways that you didn’t anticipate either, because the other woman happens to know some of your tells.</p><p>You didn’t spend four years on the Cheerios together for nothing.</p><p>You can’t help but compare every touch to your former experience with April. </p><p>Santana is a bit less attentive, a bit rougher and more to the point. She’s purposeful with her teeth when she tugs on your bottom lip, the action shooting straight to your core.</p><p>Santana rocks your hips together and is louder than you remember April being. You are too, this time.</p><p>She feels good rocking her center fluidly against yours. Santana quickly unzips your dress and lifts it up to your pelvis to allow for easier access. When your hips grind together with minimal clothing in the way, a guttural moan escapes your lips without warning.</p><p><em> Fuck, </em>you moan in her ear.</p><p>Santana smirks, pleased with herself. Part of you hates her for it.</p><p>But you knew what this was going to be when you made the decision to go to bed with her.</p><p>She pulls at your hair and marks your back while her fingers curl inside you diligently. Her precision gives you a renewed sense of vigor, so you fearlessly test the waters with Santana. </p><p>Because at least if you’re bad, she’ll tell you.</p><p>You want to make Santana feel as good as she’s making you feel. Besides, who better to try this out with than someone who’s already seen you naked in the locker rooms a million times?</p><p>With the knowledge that Santana is just as excitable as you are, you touch her where you now know you like to be touched. A blood curdling moan falls from her lips, so you must be on the right track.</p><p>The walls of the hotel room aren’t sound proof, but you don’t care.</p><p>Being the reason another girl moans sends you over the edge in ways you didn’t think it would. You feel powerful, in control, and you never want this feeling to end.</p><p>You keep circling Santana’s clit the way she craves, and you internally beg to hear the groan leave her throat again.</p><p>You want her to keep clawing at you, to paint your back red. You so desperately want to feel something, that you wish it to manifest physically.</p><p>Maybe the marks will be tangible enough for you to forget about the all consuming loneliness you feel, but you doubt it.</p><p>You shake that thought away as Santana hits the spots you need her to. It seems she is about to cascade over the edge too when she mutters, <em> don’t you dare fucking stop. </em></p><p>You feel somewhat guilty when you imagine a different brunette groaning those tantalizing words into your mouth.</p><p>You know Santana is thinking of another blonde as well. You’re both attractive women, you’re aware of that much, but that’s not what this is.</p><p>This is comfort, that’s all.</p><p>Santana comes relatively quickly when you move from her clit and brave two fingers inside of her, curling your pointer and middle fingers. Watching her fall apart the way she does makes you follow suit shortly thereafter.</p><p>You never knew making a woman finish would do so much to you, but it does. You’re a fast learner, but you know Santana could teach you another thing or two. </p><p>When are both on your backs, Santana asks, “You’re sure you’ve never done this before?”</p><p>You simply smile, omitting the truth before grabbing the bottle of water you had placed on your nightstand beforehand.</p><p>“So that’s why college girls experiment,” you say with a smirk, sipping slowly from the bottle. You’re glowing, you can feel it, and for a little while you’re at peace.</p><p>“And thank God they do,” Santana grins from across the bed, putting some distance between the both of you.</p><p>“You know, it was fun. And I’ve always wondered what it’d be like to be with a woman. But, I don’t know,” you tell her. “I think for me, it was more of a one time thing.”</p><p>This is you giving her an out if she wants it. Of course, Santana sees right through it.</p><p>“Look, you don’t have to worry. I’m not going to show up to your house with a Uhaul.”</p><p>You chuckle, because you understand the stereotype. “So what happens next?”</p><p>Santana shifts in her blanket, leaning on her elbow.</p><p>“Well, you could walk out first,” Santana suggests coyly, “Or we could make it a two time thing?”</p><p>You place the cap on your water bottle and place it on your night stand.</p><p>
  <em> Round two it is. </em>
</p>
<hr/><p>The third time you have sex with a woman, it’s everything.</p><p>It’s two months after Mr. Schuester’s non-wedding and you’ve been working on your Dramaturgy paper all night. When you arrive back to your dorm, it’s nearing midnight and you’re exhausted.</p><p>You enter your room, switch the light on and find Rachel Berry sat on top of your bed.</p><p>The books nearly slide out of your hands at the surprise.</p><p>“Hey,” she says, her voice small. She looks up at you expectantly, but you’re shaking too much to form anything coherent. Her eyes are dark and her body is turned in on herself. “Your roommate let me in.”</p><p>You busy your hands, placing your messenger bag on the computer chair and it helps settle you a bit. You lean up against the desk and cross your arms over your chest.</p><p>“What are you doing here Rachel?” Your guarded tone takes the diva aback. “We don’t really do this.”</p><p>“That’s not true,” she supplies, finding a loose thread to tug on your comforter. You hone in on the action. “You visited me once.”</p><p>You watch her pull the thread and rip it loose with her pointer finger. “That was different.”</p><p>“I suppose you’re right,” Rachel agrees, assessing the situation. “I didn’t come here to argue, Quinn. I just needed to ask you something.”</p><p>A pained expression crosses the diva’s face. Rachel lifts herself up from the bed, careful not to wrinkle her skirt and takes two steps in your direction.</p><p>You’re incredibly attracted to Rachel dressed in a gray sweater, black skirt and heavy eyeliner. As much as you found her argyle sweaters adorable in high school, you have to say this new, adult style Rachel is sporting makes your stomach flip.</p><p>You can smell a hint of her perfume as she steps into your personal space and your knees could give out at any second.</p><p>She practically has you pinned to the desk at this point, nowhere to run. It’d only take a slight inch forward for you to be kissing her. </p><p>It’s killing you not to.</p><p>“I-I need to know, Quinn,” the brunette says, her teeth tugging on the corner of her bottom lip. “Did you sleep with Santana?”</p><p>You freeze.</p><p>This is it for you, because now you’ve been found out and you aren’t ready.  </p><p>You take a second to think of a way to get out of this predicament. You ultimately decide you can brush this off like you did with Santana. </p><p>Just a college experiment, nothing more.</p><p>As your mind runs rampant, you wonder why Rachel traveled all this way just to ask that question.</p><p>When you don’t respond, she continues. “Santana and I had an argument, which is nothing new, and she let slip that the two of you had spent the evening of Mr. Schuester’s wedding together. Well, non-wedding, I suppose. At first, I thought she might’ve lied just to hurt me, as per usual, but now I’m not entirely sure that’s an accurate assessment. So is it true? Did you have sex with her?”</p><p>Rachel is uneasy, you can tell that much.</p><p>You mull all of this over for a while, unsure what to do with all of this or how to respond to the high-strung brunette. </p><p>There’s a question on your lips and it keeps repeating in your mind over and over, like a broken record. </p><p>So you ask.</p><p>“Why would me sleeping with Santana hurt you, Rachel?”</p><p>It’s hard for you to keep the anger out of your voice, so you don’t.</p><p>The brunette takes a step away from you, her mouth slightly agape. “It wouldn’t, I was just...”</p><p>She’s lying, and you both know it.</p><p>“I did sleep with Santana that night,” you end up telling Rachel. As much as this isn’t anyone’s business, you can’t lie to her. You grip your arms tighter around yourself. “Not that it was her business to tell.”</p><p>“Oh.”</p><p>Rachel looks at her watch and collects her bag and coat off of your bed.</p><p>“You’re leaving?”</p><p>“The last train is in twenty five minutes,” Rachel sighs, heading towards your doorway. “If I hurry, I think I can make it. Before I say something I may regret.”</p><p>If Rachel can just walk away after coming all this way, unannounced and demanding things from you, she’s got another thing coming.</p><p>“You don’t get to be angry about this,” you snarl, tossing your hands up in emphasis. Her back is turned to you and you watch her shoulders tense. “I know you spent that night with Finn, so you can stop acting so sanctimonious.”</p><p>Rachel turns on her heel, visibly fuming. </p><p>“It didn’t mean anything,” Rachel shoots back. “It was just a one time thing.”</p><p>You laugh sardonically. </p><p>“Right, because sleeping with your high school sweetheart screams one night stand material. Does your new boyfriend Brody know about your night with Finn?”</p><p>You want to stop, you do, but the words tumble out of your mouth with ease. </p><p>Anger is all you know right now.</p><p>“How did you know that?”</p><p>“Santana and I do more than fuck, you know,” you explain through gritted teeth. </p><p>The conversation turns into a power play. </p><p>You arduously move toward the brunette, watching her chest rise and fall. Her balled fists are at her sides. Her lips are twitching. Her cheeks are flushed and her pupils are blown.</p><p>If you didn’t know any better, you’d say Rachel was turned on.</p><p>So you push harder.</p><p>“We were at it for hours while you were having sex with your ex-fiancé. You left his room around 1am, right?” You challenge her with the information Santana had previously relayed to you. It hurt like absolute hell at the time, but now it’s your weapon. You pin Rachel to the wall, your roles from before now reversed. “Santana and I were still going at it in the other room, like we’d been all night.”</p><p>Rachel reacts as if you had dug a knife into her stomach and twisted at the organs inside. </p><p>“Shut up,” she practically begs with a silent rage. “Just stop it.”</p><p>“Or what?” you growl.</p><p>Rachel quickly flips your positions, her nails digging into your upper arms, and slams your back adamantly into the wall. She grabs a fistful of your shirt and your lips collide with urgency. </p><p>You cannot help the moan that rises in your throat, because God, does it feel incredible to be kissing Rachel. You’ve thought about it many times over the years, but you never imagined it’d be like this.</p><p>Her hands are suddenly everywhere, roaming your sides, tugging at your hair and scraping up and down your back with her nails. </p><p>You’re positive the both of you will have marks by the end of this, and you want them ingrained in you like a tattoo. </p><p>You want to remember that for once, Rachel wanted you. Just you.</p><p>You know you’ll be an absolute wreck in the morning, but right now you can’t find it in yourself to care.</p><p>You shove your tongue into her mouth and she whimpers around it, pushing herself further into you.</p><p>Rachel slips off your cardigan and camisole and she follows suit, pulling her sweater over her bead. Your lips don’t leave one another when you unzip her skirt and slide it down her tanned, toned legs and touch what the garment had once been covering.</p><p>Your jeans are a bit trickier to remove, but the brunette helps you peel them off. The skin on skin contact feels better than you ever imagined it would with her.</p><p>It feels like coming home.</p><p>Things begin to escalate, so you pull Rachel up by her hips and carry her to your bed.</p><p>You place Rachel in the center of your bed and kiss from her chest all the way down to her waist line. You tease the skin underneath the fabric with your pointer finger and slide it back and forth, provoking her. The sensation makes the brunette shudder and arch off of the mattress.</p><p>You look up at her from her midsection and the expression you find is the most jaggedly beautiful thing you've ever seen.</p><p>When she nods, you slide her panties down and park yourself on the right side of her body to remain close to her. Your left hand cups her cheek and everything slows when she turns to face you.</p><p>You take a moment to study her, silently asking Rachel if she is okay with all of this. You tuck a piece of hair behind her ear and stroke her face gently with your thumb.</p><p>Because even though you are angry with her, Rachel deserves to be treated with the utmost respect.</p><p>“Rachel,” you shudder.</p><p>When the brunette wordlessly unclasps her own bra, her gaze never leaving yours, you take that as a resounding yes.</p><p>Your lips meet again, and your pace quickens once more. Your hands run down the length of Rachel’s body, and you tease her thighs while biting her bottom lip, which she likes.</p><p>You pull your weight onto the brunette, pressing your covered center onto her bare one.</p><p>Her groans increase in volume as you rub yourself against her, and Rachel quickly unhooks your bra. Your bodies pressed up against one another feels divine and you crave more of her. </p><p>Rachel is something to be coveted, even if she does happen to be tethered to someone else.</p><p>You kiss her neck and suck on the skin there, before trailing down to her chest. Rachel tugs at your hair roughly when you take a nipple into your mouth. She moans a breathy, <em> fuck </em>, while squirming beneath you.</p><p>She lifts your chin up by her pointer finger and groans, <em> Quinn please. I need you.  </em></p><p>That’s all you need in order to push two fingers inside her easily.</p><p>She cries out when you enter her folds, melting your mouths together to muffle the sound. She rocks her body against your fingers while your other hand holds her in place by the shoulder. </p><p>Seeing Rachel like this is everything. It’s at this moment that you know you’re absolutely ruined forever.</p><p>You may not be a good Christian, but this is the closest to biblical you’ll ever get.</p><p><em> I want you to come for me, Rachel, </em>you whisper, sultrily, and she looks at you like her life is in your hands. In this way she’s openly giving herself to you, you feel as though that’s unequivocal.</p><p>You’re a cross between rough and gentle as you quicken your pace, leaving Rachel on the brink of her orgasm.</p><p>
  <em> Quinn, I’m about to— </em>
</p><p>When she falls apart in your arms, it’s more breathtaking than any of your favourite novels.</p>
<hr/><p>You wake up the next morning to the sound of incessant buzzing next to your face. You feel around your bed, but find the space next to you vacant. </p><p>
  <em> She’s gone. Of course she is. </em>
</p><p>You try your best not to feel heartbroken and resist the urge to cry. You shake the feeling off as best you can when you answer the phone.</p><p>“What?” you ask a bit too harshly.</p><p><em> “Well hello to you too, Q,” </em> Santana says over the line. </p><p>It’s 10AM on a Saturday, so you sluggishly remove yourself from the covers. You unfortunately have things to do today.</p><p>Your hair is still a wreck from from last night, and the smell of sex lingers in the room.</p><p>Deep down you knew Rachel would freak out, but it doesn’t make it hurt any less.</p><p>“Did you need something?”</p><p><em> “Rachel got in about an hour ago and she’s locked herself in her bedroom,” </em> Santana sighs, sounding uninterested. <em> “Any idea why that is?” </em></p><p>You scoff, your techniques from your acting classes coming into play. “Why would I know anything about that?”</p><p><em> “Maybe because I let it slip that we slept together,” </em> she says over the line. <em> “Figured that would be the push she needed to get her head out of her ass and use that train pass you got her.” </em></p><p>You crinkle your brow while you pull some shorts and a sports bra on, deciding to shower after a long run. “Why?”</p><p>You can feel her eye roll from New York. <em> “It’s always drama with you two, isn’t it?” </em></p><p>You scoff, even though she’s right. “What is your problem, Lopez?”</p><p><em> “My problem is, Berry hasn’t stopped whining about you since the wedding,” </em> she explains. </p><p>Your eyes narrow. “What the hell are you talking about?”</p><p>
  <em> “She’s been absolutely gutted that you stopped talking to her. The troll misses you, but won’t say anything about it.” </em>
</p><p>“That’s why you told her we had sex?”</p><p>The line is silent for a moment<em>. “No, that kinda just slipped out. I’m sorry.” </em></p><p>Santana sounds sincere, and you think it’s about time you confide in someone. That dam is about to break.</p><p>“Santana?”</p><p>
  <em> “Yeah?” </em>
</p><p>“I-I love her,” you say through a choked sob. “I’m in love with Rachel. I think I’m gay.”</p><p>
  <em> “I know, Q. I know.” </em>
</p><p>You start sobbing and tell her everything.</p>
<hr/><p>You’re hanging out in the student lounge of your building with April, who you’ve become friends with over the course of the year at Yale. It’s finals week and you’ve already aced your Literature II exam; you’re just biding time before making any solid plans for the summer months. </p><p>You’ve made a lot of headway with your sexuality over the past few weeks, with some help from Santana and April. There is a relatively large club of LGBTQ+ students on campus that the punk girl has introduced you to, but you’re not ready to start waving your own personal rainbow flag just yet.</p><p>Though it is nice to know there is a support group available when you need one. </p><p>You’re hoping to get a job and remain on campus for most of the summer, but agreed to fly into Lima to visit your mother for a week or two. </p><p>You haven’t come out to her yet, and you don’t know if you’ll be ready to do so anytime soon.</p><p>“Maybe you can take her to a PFLAG meeting or something,” April suggests, looking through graduate programs on her laptop. “I’m sure you know someone who could direct you to one in small town Ohio.”</p><p>The woman is being a sarcastic asshole about it, so you laugh, squeezing her arm. “Right, as if Lima has any groups like that.”</p><p>Before April can retort, a voice from behind you cuts her off.</p><p>“My fathers attend a book club for gay men once a month in Columbus,” the voice corrects. “There’s also a joint gay and lesbian pottery class; it’s riveting.”</p><p>Your eyes widen as Rachel takes the seat across from you. She reaches her hand out to April and faux politely says, “Hello, I’m Rachel Berry. And you are?”</p><p>April eyes Rachel suspiciously. “You know this chick, Fabray?”</p><p>“April, this is Rachel. We went to high school together,” you sigh, the situation becoming increasingly more awkward for you.</p><p>You’ve spoken to your new friend about Rachel a few times, which you instantly regret. </p><p>“It’s lovely to meet your acquaintance, April,” Rachel says, throwing the girl an ingenuine smile. Although to the diva’s credit, it does seem like she’s at least trying to be cordial.</p><p>April is way too amused, and decides to mess with Rachel. She tosses an arm around your shoulders and says, “Likewise, Raquel.” </p><p>You’re trying so hard not to burst out laughing at the diva’s astonishment.</p><p>“It’s Rachel.” After eyeing the two of you with discontent, Rachel clears her throat, “Quinn, I was hoping we could have a word? <em> Privately</em>.”</p><p>You untangle yourself gently from April and say your goodbyes to her. Rachel then grabs your hand and stands on her tiptoes to place a kiss on your cheek.</p><p>You blush embarrassingly quickly.</p><p>“What was that for?” </p><p>“Just giving you a proper hello,” Rachel grins widely, then turns to April to make sure she saw them. “Shall we?”</p><p>You turn to April who is chuckling into her laptop and roll your eyes.</p><p>You cannot believe you’ve slept with both of these idiots.</p><p>You lead Rachel to your room and settle for conversing in the kitchen. Your roommate is at her boyfriend’s apartment today, so you have the place to yourselves.</p><p>“Would you like some coffee?” you inquire politely. “Or I can make tea. I have a kettle.”</p><p>You’ve given yourself time to heal, but seeing Rachel again is harder than you thought it would be. You try to hide how much you’re shaking from her, and cannot imagine how much worse this would’ve been if she’d shown up unannounced.</p><p>Luckily for you, she texted first this time. </p><p>“Coffee would be lovely, thank you, Quinn,” she responds sweetly, plopping into a chair at your two seater table.</p><p>You splurged on a Keurig earlier in the year, figuring you’d need to caffeinate a lot for, well, the rest of your life probably. The two cups are brewed quickly and you place some milk, cream and sugar in the center of the table.</p><p>“I wasn’t sure how you took it,” you tell her, taking a seat across from Rachel. You take a few uncertain sips and wait for her to proceed.</p><p>“Is April your girlfriend?”</p><p>It isn’t asked in poor taste, but seems like Rachel is curious to know. “What? No, she’s just a friend.”</p><p>“Like we’re friends, Quinn?” the brunette challenges.</p><p>“I don’t think we were ever friends, Rachel,” you admit, pouring more cream into your coffee than you mean to.</p><p>“You make a valid point,” the diva frowns. </p><p>You inhale deeply, not ready for the rejection that’s about to come. You’ve begun unpacking your relationship with Rachel with your therapist, but you’ve only scratched the surface.</p><p>You aren’t ready to talk about this, not really. But Rachel is here and a lot more level headed than she was the last time you saw her.</p><p>Rachel wants to be your friend, nothing more. You’ll just have to cope with what that means for you after she’s finished saying her peace.</p><p>“I want to address the elephant in the room,” Rachel’s eyes cast downward. “I had no right to attack you for sleeping with Santana. It was hypocritical of me in a plethora of ways, and I deeply apologize.”</p><p>You nod, cupping your hands around your mug for the warmth. You could use it for when the figurative jab to the gut eventually comes. “Thank you.”</p><p>“I’d also like to apologize for leaving the morning after we,” she sighs dejectedly, trailing off. Tears well up in the diva’s eyes and you want to wipe them with the back of your hand, but you refrain from touching her. </p><p>You’re stunned at how Rachel manages to look beautiful even when she cries.</p><p>“The night we spent together completely dismantled me,” she explains in between sniffles. “I-I freaked out.”</p><p>“I figured as much,” you wince, trying to move past the inevitable. “There’s no need for an apology, Rachel. I get it, you’re not gay.”  </p><p>Rachel shakes her head.</p><p>“No, I'm not,” the brunette tells you. “I’m bisexual.”</p><p>“Since when?” your eyes bulge out of your head.</p><p>Rachel shrugs, and pours some almond milk and sugar into her mug. She sips on it before continuing.</p><p>“I had to kiss a few girls during a chemistry read last year. It made me reassess some things.”</p><p>You're so stunned at this turn of events, she could slap you and you wouldn't feel it. </p><p>“Then it’s just me you’re not attracted to?” </p><p>You get up from the table quickly, your heart pounding in your chest, ready for the free fall.</p><p>“Quinn, that’s ridiculous, of course I’m—”</p><p>You're spiraling. Rachel knows it too. “Look, I get that you regret sleeping with me, so could we just get this conversation over w—”</p><p>Rachel’s mouth is suddenly covering yours, cutting you off effectively. By the time your brain even registers her lips sliding against yours, the contact is lost and you're even more thrown.</p><p>“You kissed me.”</p><p>“I did.”</p><p>“Why?”</p><p>“For someone so intelligent, you can be quite obtuse sometimes, Quinn.” The brunette splays her fingers out over your cheek. You find nothing but affection in her expression. “I was trying to tell you that I really like you.”</p><p>You think you might pass out, so you chug your coffee to buy you some time.</p><p>It’s still hot. Ow.</p><p>You cough a few times, your voice a bit hoarse. “You like me?”</p><p>“Let me start over. When you stopped emailing me, I was devastated. I thought it was because I had always coveted your friendship, but I was wrong. Seeing you at the wedding made me realize I had been harboring romantic feelings for you for a <em> long </em> time, Quinn. The night we had together solidified that. </p><p>“But things shouldn’t have unfolded that way,” she reasons, turning down the corners of her mouth. “The first time we made love was supposed to be perfect.”</p><p>Your head is spinning, and you can hardly keep up.</p><p>“So you aren’t getting back together with Finn?” </p><p>Rachel shakes her head, “No, I am not.”</p><p>“Then why did you spend the night with him at the wedding?”</p><p>You don’t want to think about Finn and Rachel, but you need to know where you stand. You don’t think you can take being someone’s second choice.</p><p>“I couldn’t find you after the reception,” she reveals, regretfully. “I thought maybe you’d forgotten about me. And when Santana told me you were with her...”</p><p>You brave taking Rachel’s hands in yours. </p><p>“How could I forget you, Rachel?” Her breath hitches and the brunette looks up at you with such adoration you could die. “When I was with Santana, I was thinking of you the whole time.” Rachel’s deep brown eyes are open and inviting. You internally debate whether or not to tell the diva how you really feel, but you want to take things slowly. There will be plenty of time for revelations later. “I have wanted you for so long.”</p><p>"Really?"</p><p>You nod with a grin and the brunette smiles widely, breathing a sigh of relief. When you feel a pair of arms wrapped around your neck, you’re the one crashing your lips into hers. </p><p>This time, the kiss isn’t angry or to prove a point. </p><p>It’s because Rachel likes you.</p><p><em> Really </em> likes you.</p><p>You pull apart from the embrace after you’re sated, leaving your fingers on her neck while Rachel’s hands rest on your hips.“What does this mean?”</p><p>“Well, I was hoping we could do this for a while,” she smirks coyly, pecking your lips once more. “Then I‘d like to take you to dinner, if you’re interested.”</p><p>You can’t help but grin back at her. “Are you asking me out, Berry?”</p><p>“Maybe,” she tells you, biting her lip. “No pressure.”</p><p>“I’d love to.”</p><p>You seal it with a kiss.</p>
<hr/><p>You wind up spending most of your summer at Rachel, Santana and Kurt’s apartment. </p><p>You’re tired of shutting people out, and these three have seen you at your lowest. They’re the only ones who understand how much progress you’ve made over the last year.</p><p>One July night, you’re all lounging around in the living room, munching on the best Chinese food in Bushwick. It’s ridiculously hot in their apartment, despite all of the windows being open, but you don’t mind.</p><p>Rachel is in your lap, because although you aren’t officially dating yet, you’ve been seeing her exclusively. </p><p>The brunette ended things with that Brody guy too.</p><p>“I have to tell you guys something,” you say, putting your finished container of noodles off to the side. Rachel looks in your direction, smiling softly in support. She places a hand in yours and it relaxes you instantly.</p><p>“Stop making googly eyes at Berry and spit it out, Q,” Santana says around a chopstick full of lo mein, then places her empty box on the table.</p><p>Kurt follows suit and joins you on the couch, wrapping a pillow around his waist.</p><p>You sigh deeply, steadying yourself as all three pairs of eyes observe you. Your therapist has prepared you for this tenfold. You know you can do this, so you rip the band-aid off.</p><p>“I’m a lesbian.”</p><p>Without warning, your three best friends dogpile on top of you, chaotically giving you words of affirmation.</p><p>You suspect they all knew this about you, but you love them anyway for their enthusiasm.</p><p>“I’m so proud of you, baby,” Rachel whispers in your ear.</p><p>And you can’t help but be pleased with yourself too.</p>
<hr/><p>Later, when you’re grabbing some snacks for the film you’re watching with Rachel, you find Santana seated at the kitchen table. </p><p>You grab a pot and some kettle corn when your friend says, “I’m glad you and Berry sorted your shit out. I was tired of hearing about it.”</p><p>You roll your eyes. “Right, as if you didn’t help.”</p><p>Santana shrugs. “Someone should be happy.”</p><p>“Brittany will come around, S.” You turn and face the girl fully. “And until she does, I’m here for you.”</p><p>Santana looks up from her phone with a confused expression lining her face. It then settles. “Thanks, Q. As long as you don’t try to sleep with me again.”</p><p>You toss a dish towel at her. “In your dreams, Lopez.”</p>
<hr/><p>The fourth time you have sex with a woman, it’s with someone you love.</p><p>It’s with your girlfriend, Rachel Berry.</p><p>fin.</p>
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